


ain’t no shame in tears

by angelcult



Series: noncontober [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Crying Bill Cipher, Dark Dipper Pines, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/angelcult
Summary: Dipper has been driven up a wall by the demon-turned-somewhat human for weeks now, and he finds a more permanent way of keeping him in place.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Series: noncontober [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947919
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	ain’t no shame in tears

**Author's Note:**

> mind the warnings!

Bill doesn’t cry, because unlike most humans, well, _he’s not._ A demon shoved into a human vessel isn’t automatically human, just stuck inside of something that _looks_ human until the body dies.

More or less, it’s just a physical form that can be seen and touched on the three dimensional realm, and not solely within the Mindscape.

It has its ups, but it also has its _downs._

Pain isn’t so hilarious when there’s a brain and nervous system that makes it unbearable, but still, despite all of _that,_ he doesn’t cry.

Not that he has much to cry about anyway, he’s stuck with his favorite genetic bonding group of humans, not to mention a certain human in particular that he enjoys pestering until his face turns red and he was swearing more than saying actual words.

“Oh, _hi,_ Pine Tree,” Bill’s voice was smug and satisfied, practically a purr and the only thing that Dipper could do was roll his eyes and ignore him.

Six years later, after successfully ending an apocalypse and dealing with the horrible depression and stress that came with being a demon’s plaything, they’re on _almost_ equal fields. 

Bill’s still a demon, never mind how unassuming he looks. 

Dipper casts him a look over his cup of coffee. 

Soft blond hair, golden when the light hits it, yellow eyes with pupils that shift and dilate like a cat’s, dark tan skin, _flawless,_ not a scar, scrape or bruise on it. 

Thin eyebrows, a gentle face, like the kind you associate with mothers and nannies. 

How such a horrific and disgusting creature got shoved into such a pretty body was beyond Dipper, and he wonders if Bill had a hand in what his appearance would look like.

Dipper looks away and sips his coffee slowly, relishing the way it’s almost too hot to drink but not minding it.

“Pine Tree, are you ignoring me?” Bill whined petulantly and not unlike a child, and Dipper just hummed softly in response. It was the best way to deal with Bill, he thrives on attention now that he isn’t quite as all-powerful and nigh omnipotent, so just _not_ giving him attention was enough to make him pout or stomp off, usually to go pester someone else he could actually get a reaction out of. (He’d long since stopped trying to go about dangerous ways of harming others after trying it on himself and not liking it too much.)

Bill huffed, blowing his hair from his face and grumbling something under his breath, but went back to picking with his food almost immediately after, pushing it around the plate before taking the occasional bite.

“Where’s everyone else at?” Dipper asked, finally registering the peaceful silence he'd been enjoying for the last fifteen minutes or so. 

“Shooting Star went out with her girlfriends for a sleepover and Sixer’s off gallivanting with Fez.” Bill listed off, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth after.

Nodding, Dipper made a mental note to not open up the shop today, seeing as it’d be pretty much pointless with only two people there anyway. 

After finishing his coffee, he rose to his feet and walked over to the sink, rinsing out the mug before sitting it down, turning only to startle at the sight of Bill directly behind him.

His reaction brought a smile to the demon’s face and Dipper huffed. He was stuck with Bill, meaning he had no one else to annoy but him.

Dipper sent a silent prayer up that Ford and Stan would be home soon (and not end up in a holding cell like last time.)

Shoving past Bill and ignoring his protest, Dipper resigned himself to the fact that it would be a long, _long_ day.

* * *

Long was an understatement, it was barely the afternoon and Bill had already succeeded in driving Dipper up the wall. 

It started out innocent enough, but with Bill it never stayed that way, and as his question went from annoying to uncomfortable to just plain creepy, Dipper snapped.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Bill! You’ve asked me all of these questions before and that last one was just fucking _disgusting.”_

“Well, _have_ you?” Bill asked, scooting closer to the other and he watched in satisfied amusement at the disgust that crossed Dipper’s face.

“She’s my sister, you sick bastard.”

Bill rolled his eyes and shrugged, looking just as smug as he usually did, maybe even more so based on how Dipper reacted to him asking about.. god, he couldn’t even think about it.

“Well, you’re just a human with moral taboos, so I should have expected as much.” Bill said with a sigh, like he was honestly _disappointed_ in some way by Dipper’s response.

The brunet felt his eye twitch, and he wondered briefly if he’d actually risk fighting Bill. 

* * *

The rest of the day went in a similar manner, Bill poking and prodding, and Dipper ignoring him, snapping him, once he even threw the remote at him (much to his disappointment, Bill was able to dodge it.)

Soon, it evolved from pestering questions to mindless prattle, to annoying attention-seeking that made Dipper bristle every time Bill would press up against him and whine or pout.

It was draining and running Dipper ragged (he has given up on Ford and Stan returning anytime soon) and he was at this limit.

“Come on, Pine Tree, pay _attention_ to me, it’s getting boring and you just-“

Dipper didn’t mean to react that way he did, but he also wouldn’t apologize for it nor deny it if pressed.

He grabbed Bill by the neck and squeezed. The demon reacted about as expected, with raised eyebrows and a challenge in his eyes, and Dipper decided that _two_ could play at this game.

Bill’s eyes flickered to the brief smile that crossed Dipper’s face before he was tilting and his back was against the couch cushions and Dipper was climbing over him, pressing down on his throat.

It hindered his ability to breathe, and the pressure was applied right over his esophagus, sending panic and pain up to his insufficient little human brain and his vessel reacted in panic without his consent. 

_Fight or flight,_ Bill registered the reaction as, thanking whatever being was higher than himself that he hadn’t reacted with the often forgotten “freeze”.

“You are such a fucking brat,” Dipper started, pressing down harder, watching with excited eyes as Bill’s cheeks steadily turned a darker and darker red. 

Bill was pushing up at his chest now, trying to get him off of him, or to at least relieve the pressure on his throat but Dipper was so much _stronger_ than his petite vessel, not to mention, pissed.

“All day, every single fucking day I have to listen to your whiny voice and the way you just _vie,”_ He shakes Bill hard as he says it, listening to his choked noises and squeezing a little together until he’s not making any sounds at all.

“For attention like some fucking puppy. Hey! A puppy, maybe that can help us teach you how to shut the fuck up and stay in your place.” He lets go of Bill’s neck, watching him pathetically choke and whine as he fills his lungs with air, hands instinctively going to protect his neck from further assault but Dipper was more focused on something else.

“Puppies are easy to train when they’re young, but you-“ Dipper grasps Bill’s shorts, a tiny pair stolen from Mabel and yanks them down his thin legs.

It earns him a harsh kick to the stomach, in which Dipper is quick to return with a hard slap that sends Bill’s head turning sharply with the force, cheek already red, it’ll no doubt leave a bruise.

His eyes are getting red and puffy and Dipper finds himself unable to give Bill any sympathy, instead he laughs in a cruel way and tuts.

“Aw, what’s that, Bill? Are you gonna _cry?_ Am I _hurting_ you?” Dipper’s voice is a cruel taunt as he leans over him, caging him in with his arms, suffocating him with the feeling of being in a too small space with his brain yelling _“danger! danger! danger!”_ with nowhere to run.

“Is that what you wanted? Huh? Some fucking attention? Well, guess what, you got it! And we’re going to learn some things along the way too! How fun.” Dipper’s tone was anything but cheery as he spoke, and Bill shook his head.

Dipper made a noise of question. “What was that?”

“Get.. get off of me.” Bill forced out, disgusted with how weak he felt and the shake in his voice, wondering how that weak twelve year old turned into.. _this._

“I can’t hear you, Bill, you need to speak up.”

“I said get off of me!” Bill snaps and Dipper laughs softly, and then he starts cooing his words.

“Good _boy,_ Bill! Now was that _so_ hard? And good boys get rewards!” He said, balancing himself on one arm to lightly scratch at Bill’s head like he actually was a dog or something.

It sent a violent jolt of annoyance through Bill and he pushed hard at Dipper, upsetting his already precarious balance, though he quickly adjusted by holding onto Bill’s hair, dragging his head at an uncomfortable angle as he did.

“You bitch, I try to reward you and _this_ is what you do? Guess you’re more of a bad pup than I thought.”

Bill was clawing at Dipper’s arm as he spoke, kicking his legs out and twisting his body, trying to throw Dipper off or get the upper hand but he was more determined than Bill would have pegged him to be.

“Here, this is all your getting.” He sat on Bill’s hips, yanking his head back. When Bill gasped out in pain, he shoved two fingers into his mouth. Deep, nearly in the back of his throat and he gagged and choked.

There was drool running down his chin and cheeks, making him flush in embarrassment and anger and _fear_ because there’s no way Dipper would do that to him, right?

_Right?_

Dipper adjusts himself, letting go of Bill’s hair to grab his wrists, and Bill bites down hard on Dipper’s fingers and he gasps sharply, letting go of Bill’s wrists to hit him across the face again.

It’s hard and as Dipper’s snatching his hand away, Bill bites down on his tongue and it’s enough to make his eyes tear up, the taste of his own blood and the salt from Dipper’s skin not making it much better.

Dipper didn’t say anything this time, just scooted down between Bill’s legs and forced them open, glaring at Bill every time he tried to kick at him.

He pushed one finger in without preamble and it _hurt,_ a stretching burn with very little slickness quickly followed by another finger. The spit was already drying, making it rough and painful until Dipper leaned down to spit at his hole and provide a temporary relief.

“See? This would have been easier and felt better if you’d just _sat,”_ He slaps Bill’s inner thigh hard with the palm of his hand, nails catching. _“Still.”_

This time a harsh slap to his still soft cock and Bill makes a keening noise of pain, but Dipper doesn’t care, he continues forcing Bill to stretch around his fingers, occasionally wetting them with his own mouth, but it’s painful and tacky and Bill’s given no form of pleasure throughout the whole ordeal.

When Dipper finally pulls his fingers free, Bill doesn’t even sigh in relief because he knows there’s more and he’s feeling fucking _terrible_ beneath him.

He’s a demon, even in a human vessel, he’s _still a demon,_ but he can’t even fight off one measly little human. 

It makes a tear run down his cheek and he sniffles and looks away, watching Dipper’s hands dig down between the couch cushions.

When they catch eyes, Dipper smiles and Bill wants to disappear.

“Aw, is my puppy crying? Is it from the pain or are you just embarrassed? The big bad demon getting put into place by a little _human.”_

He seems to find what he’s looking for as he brandished a small, clear bottle that Bill identifies as lube and he feels a sort of numbness spread through him when he realizes belatedly that Dipper hurt him for his own interest and amusement, _not_ because he just didn’t have any.

It made him cry harder, and Dipper shushed him softly as he pushed his sweatpants and underwear down mid thigh, just enough to get his cock out and he was unsurprisingly hard.

“It’s okay, just be a good boy.” He tells him, eyes closing with a soft sigh as he slicked himself up, rubbing the remainder around Bill’s hole, and he jerked away at the swollen pain there.

Dipper just gripped his legs, holding him still with one hand and steadying his cock with the other, pushing in slowly. Bill jerked to get away, but it was a pointless struggle as Dipper was able to push the rest in with little to no resistance.

A choked sob left Bill’s mouth and he shook his head, pushing at Dipper’s chest even though it was futile to do so now.

Dipper leaned down over him, head tucked into his neck as he started a harsh rhythm, but he barely made any noise, as if he wasn’t enjoying it.

“Shh,” He shushed, hands sliding up to Bill’s hips, lifting them up and pushing in deeper when he did, making Bill give an aborted struggle that was easily subdued by squeezing his hips.

“Shh, now was this so hard? Huh? All you have to do is _sit here_ and be _quiet._ Is that hard? Speak.”

Bill shook his head, hating how his sinuses were clogging and his face felt all itchy and puffy. “No, it- no.” He hates how easily he gives in when he’s scared of what Dipper will do to him.

“Good puppy! See, you’re learning new tricks already.” Dipper nips lightly at the bruise he left around Bill’s throat and he jerks away, but there’s not much room to move between Dipper and the couch, and his brain is still sending _danger! danger! danger!_ to him.

Dipper sighs softly, and he adjusts the angle of his thrusts and-

Bill’s moan startles him, and the pleasure makes him panic because he doesn’t _want_ it to feel good, he wants Dipper to get off of him and to let him go so he can go hide in Ford’s room or in Stan’s somewhere without reminders of Dipper.

“Good boys get rewarded, remember?” Dipper tells him, voice sounding a little more strained now and Bill hates it, he _hates it._

Pleasure and shame and anger wrack his body, pulsing hotly inside of him, coiling up in his stomach and snaking up his spine until he’s crying again and he can’t tell if it’s because of how good it feels or how much he doesn’t want it to be happening.

An orgasm is startled out of him, and Dipper laughs when his voice cracks, when his back arches and his legs shake.

“Mm, that was your first orgasm in this body, wasn’t it? You’ve never even had sex.” Dipper laughed, and Bill wondered how he knew just how _much_ he was tainting this body.

Dipper keeps going, harder and faster and now the pleasure has turned into a pain, like poking at a new bruise and Bill wants it to stop, he wants all the hurting to stop.

His reprieve comes in the form of Dipper’s orgasm, and he hates the way he feels marked inside and out as the heat from his cum fills him.

Dipper pants quietly where he’s leaning over him, before sitting up and pulling out, keeping Bill’s hips lifted up.

“If you get cum on this couch, it won’t feel so good next time.”

_Next time._

The threat is enough to have Bill carefully maneuvering and mindful of what was inside of him as he stood on shaky legs. They almost give out beneath him but he refuses to appear any weaker than he already is.

He limps to the bathroom, pausing at the sight of himself in the mirror.

A dark purple, almost black, bruise rings his neck, there’s another on his cheek, deep and aching. Tear tracks mar his skin, his lips are red and bitten, he looks a fucking mess.

It brings tears to his eyes again.

He cleans himself up slowly, glad to not find any blood as he throws away his clothes (he can’t stand the sight of them) and shuffles back into the living room.

Dipper is reading a book, as if nothing happened, like he didn’t just-

“Puppy.” Dipper starts, looking up at Bill over his book, he’s reading _Lolita_ and it’s a cruel irony, really, he’s just _cruel._

“Come here.” It’s fear that makes his feet move, that makes him walk over and sit down when Dipper pats the place beside him on the couch.

He doesn’t say a word, and Dipper reads on in silence. 


End file.
